Reading Time: 4 minutesSecrets of Village Life in Somerset grew out of my curiosity about what truly holds a community together. Over ten weeks, I visited residents across Priddy, Westbury-sub-Mendip and Easton, listening to their experiences and inviting them to speak in their own words. Every interviewee had the chance to review their contribution (twice) before publication, so what appears in the book is exactly what they wanted to share.
As I worked, I became increasingly aware of how much wisdom, humour and quiet resilience exists behind the doors of our villages. My role was simply to gather these voices, shape them into a readable whole, and present a portrait of rural life that feels honest, human and unfiltered.
Producing the book was both challenging and rewarding—from editing thousands of words to designing a cover that matched the final page count. But the process confirmed something I have believed for years: when you give people space to speak, remarkable stories emerge.
A percentage of every sale is donated to the Dorset and Somerset Air Ambulance Charity, in recognition of the essential work they do for our region.
I am now preparing an EPUB edition to make the book accessible to readers wherever they may be. As with all my projects, I offer it in the hope that it will spark reflection, conversation and a renewed appreciation for the communities we call home.
Here is a letter I wrote to the local Journal
Midsomer Norton Town Hall: A Long-Awaited Opening Raises Concerns
On Thursday 27th November, I attended the long-anticipated reopening – or as it turned out a partial reopening of Midsomer Norton Town Hall, a building that has remained closed for a significant time. While many residents hoped for a triumphant return, the visit left me with a sobering lesson: a public building is only ever as good as the clarity of the architect’s brief.
From the moment I stepped into the lower hall, it became clear that the design process had been far from straightforward. Visitors were handed forms asking how they would like the hall to be used — a question that surely should have been asked before the architects produced their plans. As a result, we are now faced with a space that seems to answer questions no-one had yet asked.
The hall features several puzzling choices. The lead-coloured neon lighting gives an oddly clinical feel, and the wall materials — though undoubtedly expensive — bear little relation to the historic character of the building. The tiled floor, meanwhile, is perhaps the most concerning of all. It generates a sharp, echoing resonance that makes me doubt whether any musical performance will be enjoyable in that environment. What is wrong with wood? Even with a crowd in the room, a simple hand-clap produced a noticeable echo. What will it sound like when the hall is empty?
The practicalities of running events also raise questions. Any music night needs a bar, yet the one provided — tucked into what feels more like a cupboard — seems suitable only for tea and coffee, not a busy interval crowd. The hall could be used for an indoor market, but it may well be smaller than the outdoor area currently used for the monthly market. And realistically, Midsomer Norton is not large enough to sustain a daily market.
The space also feels unsuitable for talks or lectures. With no ante-room, the front door opens straight onto the street, making late arrivals both inevitable and intrusive. Weddings, too, would struggle to feel comfortable in a hall that lacks warmth, coherence, and adequate facilities.
Overall, the result feels more like a “dog’s dinner” than a revitalised public asset — too resonant for concerts, only partially appropriate for talks, limited for weddings, and potentially cramped for markets. One cannot help but wonder: what was the vision behind this renovation?
If there is a lesson here, it is that consultation and planning must take place before the work is done, not afterwards. Midsomer Norton deserves a town hall that reflects its character, meets its needs, and genuinely serves the community. Sadly, what we have instead feels like a costly missed opportunity.
